Det Sitter i Veggene By Darlene Fossum-Martin
Wooden plate, Norway, 1900. Vesterheim 1967.047.003–Gift of Sigrid Moe.
D
et sitter i veggene means it is all in the walls. But, oh, it means so much more. I have always felt a strong connection to my past, especially while living in Norway and walking the same ground as my forefathers did— milking cows on a seter as my great-grandmother had done, and entering the old log house that she was born in. I sat and looked around, smelling those old smells of the wood and the years of cooking over an open fire. I ran my hands over the furniture that she once touched as a little girl. The sights, the smells, and the sounds, everything left behind—det sitter i veggene. If only those walls could talk! 10
We need to connect to our past if we are going to understand who we are and why we are the way we are, and there is no better way to connect with our past than through food and food practices. Cultures of every kind, at every economic level, are rich with food traditions that have been handed down and elaborated upon over generations. Like the sweet, rich preserves resting on the dark, cool shelf in the farthest corner of the basement, our culinary history waits to be discovered and savored. Uncapping this favorite preserve, we smell the fragrant fruit. Memories of our mothers, grandmothers, aunts, and neighborhood ladies come rushing forth—picking the berries on a hot summer day; the Vesterheim
rich aromas of the sweet delicious fruit cooking over the stove; and how special it made us feel when she ladled off for us the foamy top layer of the strawberry jam onto a piece of homemade flatbread, before she poured the jam into the hot sterilized jars. As my sister and I watched the fish soup come to a gentle simmer on Grandma Nettie’s woodstove, we could hardly contain ourselves until at last we were sitting at the table, with fresh bread and home-churned butter. We have lost some of those special flavors of the past—which makes it even more important to keep the stories alive. Every branch of my ancestral tree stems from the roots of farmers. Most of my childhood memories come together around the whole process of food, from the life cycle of our animals to planting and harvesting. My first anatomy class was about making head cheese and butchering chickens. Today it seems even more important to be able to grasp onto our past and our memories, for these memories ground us in this age of fast-paced jobs and extended families, whose members live scattered not only across the country, but around the world. The real sources of food traditions are often scattered around the world, too. For instance, it is interesting to note what part of Norway a recipe or method of food preparation comes from, because each part of Norway uses different ingredients and preservation methods relating to geographical location and climate. What is even more interesting is that the foodways Norwegian Americans have passed down reveal where they emigrated from and how they adapted those foodways to their new land. For example, my relatives immigrated to northeast Iowa from the west coast of Norway. Their recipe for pickled herring was adapted to pickled trout, and the fish soups using monk fish were turned into catfish and sucker soups. John Christianson, professor emeritus of history at Luther College, observes: American culture is rich, diverse, and strong precisely because it has deep roots in many other parts of the world. It follows that American culture cannot be comprehended within the context of North America alone. It must also be seen in the context of the ethnic origins of the peoples who make up the American nation. Moreover American culture cannot continue to flourish without constant renewal of ties to the lands, languages and cultures of its roots.1 This is true, not only of Norwegian roots, but roots in the other Scandinavian countries and elsewhere in Europe, Asia, Africa, and South America. We often lay claim to so many of our traditional foods as genuine Norwegian foods, yet these foods have beginnings in other countries, or at least use ingredients that are not locally Norwegian or NorwegianAmerican. For example, take a look at the many recipes that have almonds for ingredients. Almonds are not grown in the Scandinavian countries, yet have been used in a variety of foods for generations. The kransekake, or almond wreath cake, has a history as rich as its taste. Norwegians think of kransekake as a very traditional Norwegian dessert, yet it had a long journey to reach Norway. One sees it in Sweden and Denmark, so it could not be ekte norsk (truly Norwegian). Vol. 6, No. 1 2008
Darlene Fossum-Martin attributes her strengths in traditional Norwegian-American cooking to her mother, Janet Fossum. Above, mother and daughter team-taught the art of making rossettes as part of a Seven Cookies of Christmas class at Vesterheim. Photo: Kari Grønningsæter. According to John Christianson, because the basic ingredients of the kransekake include almonds and sugar, which do not grow in Norway, the recipe, as well as the ingredients, had to be imported from the south.2 It came from Denmark, where it is spelled kransekage, but had come there from Germany and ultimately Italy. Italian marzipan, made of crushed almonds, white sugar, and egg whites, formed and flavored in various ways, was made as early as the Renaissance. From Italy, it spread northwards with other elements of Italian Renaissance civilization into France, Germany, and parts of Scandinavia. Citing Troels Lund, Christianson explains that fine cakes using marzipan, and also wafers with nuts, plum seeds, and violet root, sometimes topped with strawberry jelly or rosewater, were made in apothecary shops in sixteenth-century Denmark.3 These fine cakes were served at the court of the Dano-Norwegian monarchs and in the homes of the nobility and rich townspeople. If the cakes came to Norway during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, they would most likely have been served in the households of Danish governors in places like Bergen and Christiania (now Oslo), or at the tables of Danish-educated bishops and prosperous clergymen. Christianson says that, in Denmark today, a kransekage is made of marzipan, but apparently that was not always the case. The Danish recipe book, Oldemors Kogebog samtBage-, Slagte- og Syltebog includes the now-classic recipe for a Danish kransekage made of marzipan, followed by a recipe for kransekage af butterdejg (kransekage from puff pastry dough), made of stacked rings in the traditional form, with jam preserves between the rings and lightly glazed.4 Clearly, butter and eggs were more easily obtained in Scandinavia than almonds, and if you could not afford a kransekage of marzipan, you could still make a festive and delicious pyramid of pastry. Though the following recipe includes almond paste, the ingredients are similar to those in the butterdejg recipe. 11
Norma Wangsness’s Kransekake 2 cups butter, softened 1 cup almond paste 2 cups powdered sugar, sifted
2 tsp. almond extract 4 egg yolks 5 cups flour, sifted
It will take 1½ recipes to make a 26-ring cake. Cream together until smooth the butter, almond paste, powdered sugar, and almond extract. Beat egg yolks in well. Measure flour after it has been sifted and add gradually, mixing until very smooth. Place paper patterns on lightly greased cookie sheets. (To make paper patterns, see below.) Put dough into a cookie press or pastry bag. Press out to shape rings around the inside edges of paper patterns. Chill 15 minutes, if desired. If you are fortunate enough to own the kransekake pans, you can use these in place of the paper rings. Before pressing the dough into the kransekake pans, coat them lightly with vegetable oil, then sprinkle with Cream of Wheat. Shake off excess Cream of Wheat. The Cream of Wheat makes it much easier to remove the kransekake from the pans. Bake in oven at 350° F for 15 minutes, or until very lightly browned. Cool on paper pattern or in pans. Frosting 1 1/2 cups powdered sugar, sifted
1 egg white 1 tsp. vinegar or lemon juice
Stir the above ingredients together to make an icing thin enough to scallop or zigzag the rings with icing, but thick enough so that it will not run off. If the icing is not stiff enough, add more powdered sugar. Put in a pastry tube or pastry bag with small round tip. To assemble the cake, drizzle some frosting on a plate where the largest ring will be placed. This will anchor the cake. Place the largest ring on the frosting. Apply frosting in scallops on the first ring. Place the next largest ring on top, apply frosting, and continue to stack from the largest to the smallest ring. Decorate, by inserting small flags or ribbons on stickpins into the cake. When ready to serve, begin by removing the rings from the bottom up, preserving the cake’s pyramid shape. Break up the large rings and arrange on the cake plate around the remainder of the kransekake. Or bake and assemble your kransekake to be used as a table centerpiece and then bake small cookies of the same dough. Roll the dough out, or press through a pastry tube, as you would for the rings, but leave straight and cut into 2-inch pieces. Bake, cool, and drizzle individual cookies with frosting. Cardboard Paper Patterns If you do not have a set of kransekake pans, you can use the following patterns for this particular recipe. You will need to cut 26 squares of cardboard. The first will be a 2-inch square, the second a 2 1/4-inch square, etc., each one 1/4 inch larger than the one before. The twenty-sixth layer square will be 8 1/4 inches square. Completely cover each square with heavy-duty aluminum foil to prevent scorching. Using a compass, make a circle one inch in diameter on the first square, a 1 1/4-inch circle on the second square, etc. Each successive circle will be 1/4 inch wider than the last. Number each pattern to keep them in order. John Christianson has remarked that a country’s culinary heritage is a great catalyst to communication and inspiration, and I can certainly corroborate that. It is amazing to me the connections one can make through the ways we use food and water. I recently had the wonderful experience of spending ten days in El Salvador. A member of the United Methodist Church of Decorah, which has a sister parish in Potrerillos, El Salvador, presented to me an opportunity that I could not refuse. They were sending a small delegation south to renew their ties with their sister congregation, but one of the delegates became ill and there was a spot they wanted to fill. My passport was valid, so I packed my bag. Because I know only a few words of Spanish, food and food preparation definitely served as a common ground and catalyst for communication. I have a large appetite for learning about cultural foodways and I was captivated by every aspect of my host family’s food preparation, right down to the butchering of a chicken. Instead of milking cows and making lefse a few hundred miles from the Arctic Circle, I was making tortillas and pupusas a few hundred miles from the equator—different hemispheres, but similar food traditions. While I was learning to prepare new foods and creating new memories and new friendships that I will not soon forget, I discovered foods in El Salvador that were very similar to Norwegian foods. 12
Julia Amaya, Potrerillos, El Salvador, with Salvadoran banana cake. Photo: Darlene Fossum-Martin. Vesterheim
In Potrerillos, we gathered around a dinner table graced with freshly cut flowers, candles, and all the traditional foods. Throughout the week I was struck by the similarities in foods. While visiting a small embroidery group of women and young ladies, we enjoyed a wonderful dessert that was topped with bananas. As it was cut and served, I noticed that it had the appearance of sukkerbrød (sponge cake), which is the wonderful base of bløtkake (cream cake) and epplekake (apple cake). In fact, it was prepared in almost the same way as epplekake, only using fresh bananas instead of apples. It
not only had the appearance of sukkerbrød, but its taste closely resembled it, amazingly familiar and very delicious. Salvadoran banana cake also reminded me of Swedish apple cake. The Swedish apple cake is a recipe from one of my favorite food writers, Beatrice Ojakangas, used with her permission. Beatrice has authored several cookbooks on Scandinavian cooking, which contain a vast array of traditional and old-time favorite recipes. Her books also include great tips on baking and cooking, so whether you are a beginning cook, or an advanced cook, your success in preparing these foods will be great.
Sukkerbrød (Sponge Cake) 6 eggs, separated 1 cup sugar
3/4 cup King Arthur all-purpose flour* 2 tsp. baking powder
Preheat the oven to 350° F. Line the bottom of a 10-inch nonstick round cake pan or springform pan with parchment paper, then lightly grease with butter or shortening. To make the sponge cake, blend the flour with the baking powder and set aside. In a large bowl, whip the egg whites until fluffy. Gradually add the sugar and beat until stiff peaks form. In a small bowl, beat the egg yolks until frothy and pale yellow. Fold the egg yolks and flour mixture into the egg whites. Pour the batter into the pan and bake in the middle of the oven for 35-40 minutes, or until the center springs back when touched with a finger. Cool in the pan. (The center of the cake may sink slightly.) When cool, remove the cake from the pan and slice it into two layers. *Different brands of flour can make a significant difference in the outcome of your sponge cake. King Arthur all-purpose flour is a great flour to use for this sponge cake because you get a cake with more volume.
Bløtkake with Rosemary, Pears, Raspberries, and Kiwi Filling Bløtkake, or “wet cake,” is a cream layer cake. The above sponge cake is baked, then divided in layers. The layers are drizzled with fruit juice, liqueur, or milk before the filling is added and the cake is assembled. The cake should be refrigerated for 24 hours before serving, so that it reaches its peak in flavor. 1 sukkerbrød (sponge cake), see above One 15-oz. can of pears in light syrup, drained, syrup reserved 1 kiwi, peeled 1 tsp. fresh rosemary, finely chopped 4 cups whipping cream 1 tsp. vanilla extract 1/2 cup powdered sugar 1/2 cup raspberries 2-3 Tbsp. Crème de Framboise (raspberry liqueur) Cut the pears and peeled kiwi in thin slices and set aside. Whip the cream in a large bowl until soft peaks form. Add the powdered sugar and vanilla extract and whip until stiff. Slice sukkerbrød in half and place first layer on serving plate. Drizzle bottom layer with 2 Tbsp. of juice, from canned pears, and 2-3 Tbsp. of raspberry liqueur, add a layer of sliced pears. To 1 cup whipped cream add the finely chopped rosemary. Spread whipped cream and rosemary over drizzled layer. Add the second layer of sponge cake and again drizzle with pear and/or raspberry juice, or milk. Frost the entire cake with a thick layer of whipped cream. Decorate the cake with sliced kiwi and raspberries along with dollops of whipped cream. I like to assemble the cake layers and spread a thin layer of whipped cream over the entire cake to keep it from drying out. Refrigerate for 24 hours. Just before serving, add another layer of whipped cream and finish decorating with fruits of your choice.
Vol. 6, No. 1 2008
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Sockerkaka med äpplen (Swedish Apple Cake) Vanilla wafer crumbs, or zwieback crumbs 2/3 cup butter, at room temperature 1 cup sugar 4 eggs 1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp. baking powder 4 small tart apples, each pared and cut into 8 sections 2 Tbsp. sugar 2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/2 cup sliced almonds 1/4 cup simple syrup* 1/4 cup light rum (optional) 1/2 cup powdered sugar 2-3 tsp. rum or water
*To make a simple syrup, heat 1/2 cup water to boiling. Add 1 cup sugar and 1 tsp. light corn syrup. Boil 1 minute, stirring, until sugar is completely dissolved. Cool and store in a jar. Butter a 10-inch springform pan and sprinkle with vanilla wafer crumbs or zwieback crumbs. Preheat oven to 350° F. In a large mixing bowl, cream the butter and sugar until blended. Add the eggs and beat until light and fluffy. Combine the flour and baking powder. Mix into the creamed mixture until well blended. Turn mixture into the prepared cake pan. Put the apples into a bowl and add the sugar and cinnamon. Toss until apples are coated with the mixture. Press the apples into the cake batter. Sprinkle lightly over the top the remaining cinnamon mixture from the bowl along with the sliced almonds. Bake for 40-45 minutes, until the cake tests done. Remove from the oven. Heat the simple syrup to boiling and add the rum. Pour over the hot cake. Cool completely, then remove from the pan. Remove from pan and drizzle cake with the 1/2 cup powdered sugar and 2-3 tsp. rum or water.
Karamelpudding (Caramel Custard) 3/4 cup sugar (for caramelizing) 2 cups whipping cream 2 cups milk
1 vanilla bean 8 whole eggs 2/3 cup sugar
Caramelize 3/4 cup sugar. To do this, sprinkle the sugar over the bottom of a small, heavy saucepan and let it melt over low heat. Do not stir until the sugar has entirely melted, or else lumps may form that are very hard to reduce. Watch very carefully so that the sugar on the bottom does not brown before the sugar on the top is melted. Once all the sugar is melted, the heat should be high enough to maintain the caramel fluid state and yet allow for a gradual browning—but not so hot that the caramel boils and is foamy.You will know when caramel is ready when it becomes chestnut brown in color and is easy flowing. Caution: Caramelized sugar is very hot. Pour caramelized sugar into a mold or pan, tipping and swirling it until the bottom and sides are evenly coated. The caramel stiffens very quickly, so you need to work fast. Cool to room temperature. Combine the cream and milk. Divide vanilla bean lengthwise and add. Cook for 10 minutes, using a heat diffuser and stirring constantly. A heat diffuser is a metal plate that you place on top of your burner. It disperses the heat over the bottom of the pan and will help keep the milk from scorching.These are available in many kitchen stores and hardware stores. Remove the pan from the heat and cool. Mix the eggs with 2/3 cup sugar, but do not whisk, because this creates air bubbles in the custard. Slowly add the cooled cream/milk mixture to the eggs. If the cream/milk mixture is still hot, the eggs will cook, resulting in a lumpy custard. Strain the custard into the caramel-lined mold or pan. Set the mold or pan into a larger pan of water (hot water bath), where water reaches halfway up the sides of the mold. Place in an oven preheated to 300° F. A small amount of custard requires about one hour to bake and larger amounts can take 2-3 hours. If you find the custard is getting rather brown on top before it is finished baking, place a piece of parchment paper over the top of the custard. To test for doneness, use a toothpick or knife—if it comes out clean, the custard is done. Cool in the refrigerator until firm, about 4 hours. To remove the custard, run a sharp knife around the edge of the mold or pan. Dip the mold or pan briefly in hot water and invert on to a platter (with slight sides). The melted caramel pours over the custard and pools around the sides and is used as a sauce. Decorate with whipped cream. Serves 4-6. 14
Vesterheim
At our farewell party in Potrerillos, I was once again surprised when we were served the delicious dessert flan. It was specially made for us and very closely resembled Norwegian karamelpudding. The finished product was very similar, but richer in ingredients. The texture was velvety smooth and the taste outstanding. These foods, along with other foods we enjoyed throughout the week, were prepared with an extra special touch and served with love. The folks at Potrerillos were very humble, just as I remember so many of my older relatives were, both in Norway and here in the U. S.—all with so little to offer in material goods, but so rich in character and in sharing the gift of friendship and food. The experience reaffirmed that the value and moral obligation of my table is that it always be a place for anyone of any ethnicity. In my food classes I am committed to teaching, not just about food preparation, but about keeping alive the traditions, stories, and experiences that go along with these foods. I want to give hope to those who think their traditions are dying. I often hear stories that a daughter, son, or grandchild requests a certain food for a holiday or special occasion. My own children are perfect examples of this. Even though they do not always help me directly in the cooking and baking processes, they are observing, enjoying the aromas, and tasting the finished projects. My son has given lefse demonstrations in high school and in college. Turning the lefse while I mixed and rolled the dough, he picked up enough to know how to make it for his class. In addition, my daughter demonstrated how to make rømmegrøt for her high school demonstration speech. These foods have been a part of my children’s lives since they were born, but they had never really attempted to make them from start to finish before. However, they had gathered enough knowledge throughout the years to understand what to do, know how the foods should taste, and have a feel for what the textures of the finished products should be—without suspecting that they were carrying on a tradition that has been in their family for generations. Memories of kitchens past include more than traditional foods and their preparation. There are the table settings: Plates, cups, silverware, serving dishes, and tablecloths all have stories to tell, stories of past dinners and parties as well as everyday fare. A piece of dinnerware or serving bowl can turn any meal into a special occasion, filled with conversation and reminiscences that can give a sense of where we come from and who we are, a sense of belonging, of being grounded. These culinary sights, smells, and tastes may hold the key to opening a memory that has been dormant for years—and keeping the family intact! As Thomas Moore wrote in Re-Enchantment of Everyday Life, “A tablecloth, cloth napkins, candles, and even a trivet can change an ordinary meal into an experience that magically holds the family together, invites needed conversation, strokes friendship, and swells the soul with the ordinary pleasures it craves.”5 So bring out the family dishes and serving platters. Set the table with candles and flowers and prepare special foods that have been in your family for years, or even for only a short while. Go ahead, make history, and let your walls be filled with sights, sounds, smells, and stories that can be told for generations to come. Det sitter i veggene.
Vol. 6, No. 1 2008
Blue floral platter. Earthenware, England, nineteenth century. Vesterheim LC4171.
Endnotes 1
J. R. Christianson,“Literary Traditions of Norwegian-American Women,” in Makers of an American Immigrant Legacy: Essays in Honor of Kenneth O. Bjork, ed. Odd S. Lovoll, (Northfield: Norwegian-American Historical Association, 1980). 2 John Christianson’s historical overview of kransekake comes from a personal exchange with the author. 3 Troels Lund, Dagligt Liv i Norden i det sekstende Aarhundrede, 6th ed. (Copenhagen: Gyldendal,1969). 4 Oldemors Kogebog samt-Bage-, Slagte- og Syltebog (Copenhagen: Ejnar Andersens Forlag, n.d.). 5 Thomas Moore, Re-Enchantment of Everyday Life (New York: Harper Collins, 1996).
About the Author Darlene Fossum-Martin is the program assistant at Luther College’s Diversity Center. She holds a degree in home economics and education and teaches traditional Norwegian food classes at Vesterheim and in adult education and summer programming for children throughout Iowa, Minnesota, Wisconsin, and North Carolina. Darlene also has led two Vesterheim folk-art study tours to Norway—one of which included a two-week traditional Norwegian cooking class at a folk high school in Voss. 15